The Diary of Sherlock Holmes Aged 13 years
by ConsultingTimelordof Sunnydale
Summary: 13 year old's can be so much cleverer than the adults, those tediously boring, ignorant adults. So Sherlock Holmes must solve all there mysteries for them, of course.


**THIS DIARY BELONGS TO SHERLOCK HOLMES**

**Aged 13 years**

2/9/1994

My name is Sherlock Holmes and I am a genius. My older brother Mycroft gave me this horrible diary a year ago in case I got lonely while he was at university in London. As if. I am stuck here in the boring countryside where the most exciting thing that happens is The Case of the Missing Trifle and I am expected to talk to those tiresome Lestrade children.

The only reason I am writing in this is that I figure there is not a whole lot else to do. Classes are so boring, I know everything they are telling me and the teachers figure there is no point trying to teach me because I will end up teaching them a whole lot more. I just read or write my plans for after I leave school, not that I'll put any into place, they just fill up the time. My grades are ok; I just don't see the point in so much of it, like how is the fact that the Earth goes around the sun going to affect my life here and now.

Well, I suppose the customary thing to use a diary for is to write about one's day and one's thoughts about such day. So today I woke up at 7:49, skipped breakfast (digesting slows my thinking), pulled on my clothes, grabbed the books I had in my room (I don't have to share because nobody wants to share with me) and ran across the grounds to the building where classes are and into the first class. I then proceeded to go back to sleep on my desk. At lunch I grabbed an apple, ate it then went to the library and read two books; one about Whales and the other about Wales (I do not care for either subjects I just thought it would be nice to write and lying when unnecessary is stupid). I grabbed a stack of books and went back to class. I am now sitting in Homework writing this.

My life is so excruciatingly boring I want either kill myself or run away to Australia. But I am not going to do either of these because Mycroft would blame himself and as annoying as he is I still care a little about him.

Goodbye fictional being I hope you have a good night. (I don't actually care in the least about your night but I am told that that is the polite thing to say.)

3/9/21994

Today I met two people; one was too brilliant for words and the other I could not make head or tail of. A boy called John was the first, to any onlooker he would be just an ordinary boy of 14 but there is some unmistakable remarkableness about him that I was instantly drawn to him. Naturally I deduced everything I needed to know about him before he could get a word out. His full name is John Hamish Watson (although the teacher told me that) and he is here on a scholarship. He has a older brother who he considers to be somewhat of a bad boy although he is one to talk since he was kicked out of his old school for fighting. His father is dead and he has a strange fascination with death. The last one has made sure he require psychiatrist.

The second person I met I could not deduce anything from. He was wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie. A girl with very dark hair and a funny bag accompanied him. He showed me white piece of paper in a leather case and walked right on into the electrics room. I ran in after him and asked him why he had showed me a blank bit of paper. He stopped and stared at me for a second and after some obvious deliberating muttered under his breath 'Genius' then continued to fumble with the electrics. I didn't want to be caught letting a strange man onto school grounds so I ran off to my room.

I forgot to tell you before that because there are no spare rooms John is going to share a room with me. So I get Homework (where we have to go and do homework in one big room) off to clean up my stuff and get to know him. I kicked all my stuff under the bed and then sat on my bed and watched him put away his stuff, which was not very much at all. At that point I asked him what he thought of the school as that is the polite thing I am expected to do. He said he wasn't sure yet and I told him that it was incredibly boring and that the best thing to do is to just succumb to the mindlessness of it all and do what they say. I expected him to stare at me for a second and then go off to talk to people, but instead he finished putting his stuff away and sat on his bed facing me. We sat in silence like this until it was time for tea, normally I don't go but he went and so I followed him. I sat next to him while he ate the spaghetti then apple crumble then this girl, Sally, came over and said "Oh and the two psychos are sitting together"

We went back to our room and I began to write in this.

Goodnight to you.

5/9/1994

This morning I overheard some teachers talking in class "Finally he has a friend. Although I wouldn't say that John boy is exactly what you would call a good influence"

"They do work well together though"

I was glad to hear that there are two significant arguments for us being friends other that the fact that we are friends and friends are usually considered good and there is only one argument against.

I am sorry that I did not write yesterday I was too busy "bonding" with my new friend. He is the only friend I have had, and he helped me solve a case and it was a real proper case with murder and everything. So there was this guy, a bit of a loner but a different type of loner to me, and he was going to die from cancer that had spread from an unknown source to the rest of his body. As with a lot of 15 year old boys (he was 15) he had not done a whole lot with his life or for his family and, like John, he was here one scholarship from a poor family. He had been told that for every person he kills money would go to his family. But instead of the average sneak in and kill, he got three guns. One to make sure they didn't run, one that was loaded and one that was a fake, He got them to come with him by pretending to be someone coming to get them to see a teacher. He put the fake and the loaded ones between him and the victim and got them to choose which one they were going to shoot themselves with, but the catch was whichever one they did not choose he would shoot himself with. He got me to come along by telling me that I would never know the secret if I didn't come. I was about to shoot the gun when John ran in and tackled this guy to the ground, we got him to come up with the name of his "sponsor" and then hit him other the head with a lampshade.

The police came and whatever but we were well away from the crime scene by then in our nice cosy beds and back to our monotonous boring lives. And John hid my drinks. He says I need to actually eat something or I will die.

Oh and the guy with the funny paper is an alien and he came and saved the world from some weird stone angels that move (illogical, irrelevant, boring) and then he left in a blue 60's police box that is bigger on the inside. (Again illogical, irrelevant, boring.)

Goodnight

By The Way it is 3am

9/9/1994

HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! My John has a bloody girlfriend and it happens to be one of the smartest people in school (I am obviously the smartest person in the school possibly even all schools). The teachers are all over him now they think that he is a changed person just because he is going out with smug, smart Sarah, of all people. Couldn't he have chosen some kind of outcast girl or something to maintain our reputation as the psychos (it makes sure people leave us alone, they don't want to get killed).

He wants to take her somewhere so I brought them tickets to the school play. There are these special people here to help with the play from another school who won some drama competition last year. I think it might be related to the two boys who were beaten out of their minds yesterday for no obvious reason. They are both in a program that entails swapping positions with someone from another school for a month.

My English teacher is trying to get me to join a club. I said no and went to the library but it got me thinking about people's incentive to join such clubs. They are practically just extra class time focusing on things that are not going to get you any further in life at all and you could be doing so many other things. You could be slowly becoming the richest person in the world or spending time with friends or doing the homework that everyone seems to complain about taking up their time.

I seem to be making progress in becoming 'friends' with John we have been talking a little bit and apparently I was wrong about his brother because he has no brother, only a sister called Harry short for Harriet. I really need to iron out mistakes like that, Mycroft told me that sometimes people take offence in things like that, people are truly ridiculous.

'Night to you

14/9/1994

All the kids here think that we are psychos and I liked it before because it meant that they left us alone but no I think that it is getting to John. We solved another case that involved death but that is unimportant right now because John is sad.

Sarah won't see him anymore because she almost got killed, Sally and her gang are constantly taunting him and hanging out with 'the freak' is surely not helping his case. He is sleeping a lot and eating almost as little as me. I asked him if he wanted to go to the cinema last Saturday (not because I wanted to go, just because it is customary) and he declined even though he had nothing to do.

I had to ask Molly because I had already bought the tickets and she thought it was a date, I shan't be doing that again. She wore lipstick and a skirt and all I wanted to do was not waste money on tickets I was not even going to use. At least I know that she actually likes me unlike the rest of the world but I am most certainly not attracted to her, not in the slightest, I am asexual.

I can't do anything about John this weekend because Mycroft wants me to come and stay with him in London. I am not happy about it at all. Mycroft is an annoying git, who thinks he is so much better than me that my whole life is devoted to thinking about him. I have to leave straight away afterschool on Friday because his flat is 176.6 miles away from here and then I will be expected to do homework there all weekend while he hangs out with his equally annoying friends.

I now have to go to the psychiatrist because they think that all the deaths have made me disturbed or something. I just sit there while this guy tried to ask me questions about my friends (not that I have any except John), my family (I'm not to sure if Mycroft counts), my hobbies (include reading, planning unlikely things, figuring out John, playing the violin and wandering) and what I want to be (a detective, I think).

Goodnight

15/9/1994

There is a new principal because the old one died for some reason who has decided that I have to do work. He has no right. I am perfectly fine on my own. Books teach me more than those ignorant teachers. But now I have to do all my homework and anything the teachers tell me to do in class or John will move into a different room and I will not be able to go anywhere but my room. I don't care about being confined to my room but I have grown closer than I care to admit to John and could not bear being kept away from him.

Now I have to listen to their mindless ramblings about god knows what and then do everything that they tell me to do. Apparently there is no law against making students listen to teachers when they are obviously smarter than them. There should be a law against not having a law against that. So I am writing this in bed to express my outrage. I had to spend all the rest of the day in class or reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' which is apparently required even when you are not strictly in year nine. Mycroft pulled a lot of strings to even get me into this school so I am not sure how he got them to let me skip a grade.

I want to run away with John and solve crimes. When they need to get people out of the picture in books they send them to Australia (I wonder what Australians think about that) so I think perhaps we should go to Australia. Mycroft will get us somewhere to live and a school that doesn't treat me like a slave. I know that it is all very unlikely to actually happen but it is worth hoping. It would help John since nobody wants to be nice to him at the moment and he is getting more and more depressed. I am worried that he will not want to be friends with me anymore.

I have to go to sleep now because John says that sleep helps you concentrate on what the so-called 'teachers' are saying. Right now I would really like to go and give him a hug.

Toodaloo

P.S Sally Donovan is going out with some snobby kid who only goes by 'Anderson' and now there is another person to taunt John. (It all goes over my head so I don't count).

I was right Mycroft expects me to mope around his flat filling my brain with meaningless facts and because the serve no purpose to me I throw them straight into the dumpster out the back of my mind palace. He is out hanging out with his friend Greg Lestrade, it doesn't make sense why they are friends; Mycroft is a snob who spends his life in a suit and Greg is training to be a detective, I guess he is okay.

On Thursday this guy asked me to help him get out of being expelled and going to a Detention Centre from school for practically killing his girlfriend. I declined because justice should be served and his girlfriend was one of the less annoying year tens. His grammar was absolutely appalling by the way.

I called John this morning and he told me that I don't have to check up on him. I said I just missed him (which I do but I was also checking up on him). He told me that was gay and I told him that I did not care. I asked him what had happened in my absence and he said that I had only been gone a night and I hung up. It was a delightful conversation.

Mycroft and Greg are back and Greg wants to take me for ice cream. I was about to say no but Mycroft gave me his evil Mycroft 'Tut-tutting' stare. So I have to go.

Bye

Later: The ice cream was stupid. The only reason he took me was so that he could pay me to do his homework. It took me five minutes.

I am looking forward to going back tomorrow, so I can spend time with John and make sure that Sally hasn't killed him. He will probably be lying on the floor of 221 B (Our Room) with Sally and Anderson and the rest of them.

Goodnight

I am back at school. John is not dead although he is tired. Sally, Anderson, some guy named Dimmock (also seems to favour his last name) and a few others sat by the door in shifts yelling out stupid comments therefore keeping him up all night.

This morning before I left Mycroft's he gave me an envelope who he said had been sent to me but he had forgotten to hand it over, idiot. It contained a copy of one of the main clues from the first case that I solved with John; a bright pink painted mobile phone belonging to the last and most crucial victim. When I turned it on 5 beeps sounded. The envelope also had in it a photo of one of the old dorms upstairs that are now considered unsafe with a pair of sneakers in it.

John told everyone that I am extremely ignorant when it comes to general knowledge like basic facts about the solar system. I told him that I didn't care and the solar system didn't matter in the least to me because it doesn't effect people's energy for murder. He got really cross unreasonably though. I think that it was also provoked by the fact that I was knocking holes in all the walls because I was bored and that I was half way through investigating a dead rat and it was on his desk. He walked out.

John came back because he was worried as some kids got suspended from around near here. Probably Adrian, Matt and Bill.

We stole the keys from an incredibly vacant teacher and went and had a look at the 'unsafe' 3rd floor. The room was an exact mirror of the photo every piece of dust. The shoes were obviously there so I grabbed them. At first I did not recognise the sneakers but after analysing them for 3 minutes I realised that they were the shoes of Carl Powers the boy who drowned in on a trip to a London pool five years ago. It was all wrong, a boy like Carl would not have drowned he was poisoned, I did not no how but I knew and the police would not listen. Evidence on the shoes suggests that he was poisoned via his eczema medicine.

In other news Molly has or now had a so-called 'boyfriend' who if I had been a little more careful would have kept her away from me. But I, being the kind person I am, had to break the news to her that old Jimmy is gay. The signs were clear but I am not going to go into detail.

Before I got to examine the shoes there was a call for me explaining that I had 12 hours to solve the puzzle or the bombs tied to her would be detonated. That is a stupid incentive as Father always says 'Caring is not an advantage' but as I am bored and there is a game I shall play.

Me solving the case got our anonymous game maker to deactivate the bomb-laden women. Since then I have solved another one about a sports car and a depressed man who had gotten into significant financial trouble and therefore consulted a car hire company. But it wasn't only a car hire company, they specialise in resettling people into new lives when they need a new identity. The bombs were deactivated.

The five beeps on the pink phone correspond to five rounds of our game and each round the time that I get to solve the case decreases.

I have to go and eat because I have exceeded the usual time I can go without eating and still function properly.

Later: Another letter came and I opened it while I was in the common room with John. There was a photo in it of a particularly strange woman she looked like Botox in human form, her eyebrows high and her face unnaturally puffy. I had no idea who she was. John looked over my shoulder and told me it was Connie Prince from some makeover show on the telly.

I had a look in the paper to see if there was anything about her. There certainly was, she was dead and everyone was devastated. So I got Mycroft to send me pictures because he lives near the morgue and he seems to have significant influence over everyone except the queen.

Her apparent cause of death was tetanus from a deep cut from a rusty nail. From a short inspection it was obvious that the tetanus was caused not from the cut. It was very fresh and for tetanus to kill someone it has to have incubated inside the body for at least 7 days.

I used the school phone to ring the family of Connie Prince but I got John to talk as he tends to be efficient in getting information and making sure they don't start yelling. While he was talking to Mr Prince I went to the computer room and used the 'World Wide Web' to find out about them.

From our call and my research I found that it was there servant who was condensing her Botox injections. This did not stop the bomber though because the person who was covered in bombs had started to describe him. BOOM.


End file.
